#d) withers <3 <3 <3

[kirain]

My favourite bit of BG3 lore is that Withers is legitimately responsible for the Dead Three, but he's probably too embarrassed to tell you, so every time you ask him to elaborate he just gives you a very stern, "Noooo."

I also love that the reason he's responsible for their uprising is because he got bored. He literally got bored of his position as Lord of the Dead and wanted to retire, so when these three morally questionable humans came looking for godhood he was like, "Hmmm. Yes, okay. Here. Take my portfolios. Fight over them. I don't care. I quit."

So after bowling with skulls in a friendly competition to decide who would get what portfolio, they took up his powers and wreaked havoc on the world. Only at that moment did Jergal, AKA Withers, AKA our precious Bone Daddy think, "I'm just now, internally, asking myself, in quite a worried way, whether I might've made an error."

So he joins your merry band and watches your escapades, calmly twiddling his fingers while you clean up his mess. He's happy to lend his aid, even to the point that he'll bring Durge back to life if they reject Bhaal, even though he technically shouldn't. But he's Withers. The rules don't apply to him. If Ao doesn't like it, he can descend from the Heavens and say it to his rotting face.

And the reason he saves Durge isn't necessarily because he likes them or because he's a morally good entity (though one certainly could make that argument), but because he wants to add insult to injury. He steals Bhaal's child with a big smile on his face, dubs them his Chosen, and praises them for rejecting all the power they were promised. But of course, he still doesn't tell them who he is—or rather who he was.

Then, when all is said and done, he throws Tav and their companions a cute little party. No one knows it's probably half a thank you party and half a "Withers is bored again" party. And if anyone misbehaves, he'll get irritated and whisk them away. Because how dare they? He put a lot of work into that.

And at the end of it all, he walks up to a mural of the Dead Three and basically goes, "Lmao. Thou didst fuck around, and thou didst find out." Just savagely roasting them.

And then poof!

He waves them into non-existence.

[skatik]

Withers

[effelants]

My theory, which may or may not be 90% wishful thinking:

We get BG3 DLC, and it involves the Spellplague 2: Electric Boogaloo, beginning.

We get BG4, and it involves us bringing about the Third Sundering.

Please see attached conspiracy board as to why I think this.

[slapthebass]

DIR EN GREY - EUROPE TOUR24 FROM DEPRESSION TO_____ [mode of Withering to death & UROBOROS]

[thenugking]

Okay no I've got it. I've said all along Durge and Orin's places could so easily be swapped, that the only difference was that Durge got the chance to start over fresh away from their muder cult, and that I want to be able to spare Orin, damn it. But now I've figured out how to make it work.

Durge and Orin fight in single combat at the altar of Bhaal. (Orin gets a second phase of her fight where she's herself, because she deserves a more satisfying boss fight and also to not just have Bhaal wipe her mind when you try to talk to her about her abusive backstory, jesus fucking christ that was nasty.)

Durge disarms Orin, gets her too injured to fight back, is the clear winner of this fight... and throws their weapon away, because they're not going to kill for Bhaal again. They're not going to continue the cycle of violence they and orin have been stuck in since birth.

Bhaal, of course, kills them for rejecting their birthright. And kills Orin for good measure; she failed, she's not worthy of him, this whole generation is a fuck up and he's better off starting over again elsewhere with a new generation of murder babies who'll actually be competent at this.

And as in the game, Withers comes in, resurrects Durge, tells them Bhaal could only kill the part of them that he knew, but they've changed and grown so much since the nautiloid, and Withers brought back everything that Bhaal didn't know.

Durge asks him--begs him probably, but damnit if Larian's resolving their plot with a huge deus ex machina then so can I--to bring Orin back too.

Except Orin didn't have those last few months free of Bhaal's influence. Everything she's ever done is tied up in trying to please Bhaal. When Withers brings her back, at Durge's request somewhere outside the temple, she's waking up covered in blood, nerfed back down to level one, and with no memory of anything except her name.

And the chance to start over fresh away from the murder cult. Orin can make her own decisions from there. Maybe she'll become the person she was before, maybe she'll be worse than ever, and a new party of adventurers will have to take her down to stop a new killing spree in a few years time. But maybe she'll change, and grow, the way Durge did. Maybe she'll become someone better. Whatever she does, she deserves to have a chance.

[queen-scribbles]

Bro was free to play today, so Tala and Bottlen rode again! With two major changes: Bro was having trouble making Bottlen's backstory fit with being a Ranger, so he respecc'ed into Paladin(of Lathander), Oath of Devotion/War Cleric Tala's first convert and gave him a makeover

I guess being a Ranger was his only excuse for being all scraggly? Anyway, he cleans up nice, and now has roughly the same charisma as Tala, so they're sharing diplomacy duty instead of it all being on her. xD

We still didn't make it to the goblin camp, so still no Halsin, but we dealt with the group after Karlach and then Auntie Ethel, and I got to hear my brother go "Okay, we're gonna do something that's a really bad idea" followed by our whole group using Protection from Good and Evil scrolls to wear the whispering masks. :D Bc that was the only safe-ish way to get through all the noxious fumes in the lower part of Ethel's hideout. So Gale failed the save once or twice. It was fine. We're all fine. And we saved Mayrina. (I had Create Water swapped in, so that was a help)

Also killed the ogres in the ruined village, so RIP Lump the Enlightened, Tala looks v pretty in your headband

The one hilarious part is Bottlen now wields a greatsword that I'm pretty sure is literally twice his height

It clips into the ground when it's on his back, it's amazing. Maybe next weekend we'll do the gnolls and/or goblin camp? or maybe more sidequesting? Stay tuned.

[shadowmonkstone]

Withers was true to his word, and when we got back to the camp he was just waiting there with a mirror. I’m not going to talk to him, I think I might go insane.

The rest of us were just glad to stop and get some kip I think. At least I was. Shadowheart got pissy when I spoke to Lae’zel, they really do not fucking like each other. Gale bumbled on about the abstract becoming reality or something, I don’t know. I try to tune out when he starts spouting his wizardly bollocks. Astarion got… flirty? Had to tell him I didn’t swing that way but it didn’t seem to put him off.

I’m going to sleep.

Hopefully when I wake up I won’t have tentacles coming out of my face or Lae’zel’s spear up my arse.

No that’s not a euphemism. Stop bloody laughing, you wanker.

[petiolata]

At some point today i need to wake my brain up and get some writing done 😴

Im just not rly excited/interested in this next upcoming scene even a little so it's hard. I know it's popular writing advice nowadays to go "If writing the scene bores you, it'll be boring for your readers! 😃"

Like b*itch I have anhedonia for months at a time 🙄 everything bores me, what am I supposed to not write for half the year?

[blackjackkent]

Heyyy, have you ever written your Hec and Karlach with the "blows up at the pier" ending? I am just not sure where to look for it lol but I always love imagining the "alt routes" but I understand if others are too sad to dip toes in

Oh man, anon coming in with the Big Feels out of nowhere. :D I love it. As per usual this got way longer than intended and very out of hand. XD

I have not written that before and it is indeed VERY sad to think about. But I am up for giving it a try! [rolls up sleeves, braces self]

(If you're interested, I also answered a similar version of this question a while back regarding Hector's life in a worldstate where Karlach got mind-flayered, which was ALSO sad. 😭 )

So anyway. Scenario, then: the brain fight didn't go super smoothly and Wyll is unconscious, so Hector is left with no other voice to save Karlach from her self-sacrifice.

-----

No one moves. The pier is suddenly deathly silent as the roaring of Karlach's engine falls to stillness. Hector sways unsteadily on his feet, clinging to the afterimages of the flame still burned into his eyes.

Don't breathe. Don't think. When you think, it will become real...

But there is no stopping it. Thinking is what he does best, after all. She taught him to live, for a while, to see the glory and goodness of the wide world outside the monastery, the bright intensity of its colors.

But she is gone, and he can see the grayscale already fading in again at the corners of his vision.

"No..." he whispers. His voice sounds choked in his throat. "No." Somehow he always believed, deep down, that something would come to save her, that they would find some way to make everything all right. "NO!" He falls to his knees, burying his fingers in the ashes; his palms blister in the lingering heat.

"NO. NO. NO, NO, NO, NO, NO NO NO NONONONONONO!"

He's screaming, he realizes distantly. Sobbing too. Everything has snapped; every ounce of the control that he wears like armor has vanished. He feels detached from his body, unreal, numb with grief. The tears pour down his face, blinding him.

It isn't fair. After everything they have been through, everything Karlach suffered, it isn't fair that this is how she ended, without even a body to bury in the city she loved. It isn't fair that he will never hold her again, never feel her arms around him, never protect her and be protected by her, never see the world at her side, never... never... never...

The world is so cold without her warmth.

"Gods, please... please come back to me!" he howls into the uncaring ocean view. "I can't... I can't..."

The first paroxysm of anguish starts to fade. He collapses forward on his elbows and knees, his face pressed into his fists, and sobs.

In the monastery, they taught him there was no pain that discipline and prayer could not soothe. They were wrong. He knows now just how wrong they were.

"The Moonmaiden sees me… no grief nor pain nor fury shall wrest me from her path…" He whispers the mantra brokenly, instinctively, desperate for the comfort it has brought him in other moments. But there is no comfort to be found even in Selune's light, not for this.

He is alone.

But no... not completely alone. A hand touches his shoulder softly; a form crouches gently at his side. Shadowheart. He can see the sympathy in her eyes, the compassion and shared pain.

"Come here," she says softly, and opens her arms to him, as he did to her after the House of Grief. And as she did then, he falls sideways into her embrace, presses his face into her shoulder and cries bitterly. Her armor feels cold after the furnace heat of Karlach's destruction, but the hug is tight and fierce and she rocks gently side to side, holding him.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers.

His voice is hoarse, almost inaudible. "It hurts..."

"I know... I know..." She looks up. The others are watching at a distance - those who remain, anyway. Astarion is gone into the shadows, Lae'zel to the Astral. Gale is crouched by Wyll's unconscious body, but his eyes are fixed on the back of Hector's head, unblinking. Minsc, his face drawn tight with regret, is standing a little closer, Boo balanced on one fist.

And Jaheira closes with them, moving to sit on Hector's other side. The druid rests a hand on Hector's back just above where Shadowheart's arms hold him. "Silvanus guide the light to the source," she murmurs. "Take her to what she justly deserves. By nature's will, what was given is returned. What was turmoil is now peace..."

Hector draws a long, slow, shuddering breath.

"May the Moonmaiden's light follow her into the dark," Shadowheart says softly. Her voice is still a little unsteady on the Selunite prayer, but she knows Hector needs to hear it. "The silver light always at her back..."

He swallows, sits up slightly, not pulling away from either woman's touch. They are grounding him, drawing him back to himself, and his heart rate begins to calm, the sobs slowing to unsteady, hiccuping breaths. "Perhaps," he whispers hoarsely, "perhaps had I served Shar, it would be easier... I would be prepared for such loss..."

He can feel Shadowheart give a single, sharp shake of the head.

"Do not think it," Jaheira says, her voice low. "You would be empty. It is no better. The grief carries all the meaning of what was; it is the love with nowhere left to go. In time it will be bearable, cub."

He does not want it to be bearable. He wants it gone. He wants her back. He wants the hole in his heart filled back in.

"My Lady..." he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. "See her soul as it travels outward. Take it where mine would go, I beg you."

Karlach once said that she liked the thought of her soul spreading out through the world, becoming part of it. He liked the thought too, for she was always full of life and loved the world so deeply, with such fierce devotion...

But he knows the truth, as it was taught to him. She will go to the Fugue Plane to be judged. And if no god fights for her soul, she will exist in limbo forever, trapped in another unending wasteland.

"Take her to you, My Lady... please. In my place, if you must, but do not leave her forgotten..."

----

Some months later, he and Jaheira travel at Withers' behest to a gathering outside the city.

It has been a good half-year, all things considered. The city is starting to rebuild, to regain some semblance of its former life. Hector has been hard at work among the Harpers, lending his strong back to building projects and his counsel to those in need of it.

He's filled out with new muscle and a sense of pride in the Gate. Jaheira has noted it more than once - with surprise, given that he once lived in such isolation from the city's life. But they both know, truly, where that pride stems from. Karlach could not live to see her city flourish again - so Hector must see it for her.

In his pocket always he carries the three copper coins Jaheira delivered to him a few days after the brain fell. Sometimes he listens to the message recorded on them. More often, he simply places a hand against them when the loneliness threatens to overwhelm him, feeling the soft warm buzz of the enchantment on them and imagining he can almost feel Karlach's touch.

Withers finds him wandering away from the party, late in the evening, and addresses him without preamble, grave as ever.

"Thou feelst it still," the skeleton says, with something oddly like kindness. "She is not here. She who means the most. Hast thy thoughts been with brave Karlach often?"

Yes. Of course they have. He doesn't speak of it much to Jaheira and the others, and he has tried to move on - and some days he can almost manage it. But her loss always sits in the back of his mind, inescapable. Every moment of victory bears its quiet reminder that she is not here to share it with him. Every failure brings the ache for her comfort and her warmth.

"I loved her so much," he says quietly. "It isn't fair."

"No," Withers says placidly. "It is not."

He feels a sudden tightness in the back of his throat. He has not spoken of her aloud for so many weeks, but Withers of all people coming to him with kindness brings the feelings rushing back, stinging into his eyes. "I don't know how I can go on without her," he mutters.

Withers's dessicated lips curl in a slight smile. "She battled in Avernus, fueled on naught but hope," he says. "And that hope came to become truth. In but a dozen tendays, an entire life was lived. More than mortal years-- mortal centuries were hers." He gives a slow nod in acknowledgment of Hector's grief. "Thou might endure a great eon of mourning. But thou must hope, as once she did. Her life... her happiness... was you."

Great, now he really is going to cry. That strain in his throat is rapidly forming into a lump that makes it difficult to speak. "And she was mine..." he whispers.

"Thy life was hers for a while," Withers says gently. "It is now thine again. Live it well." He reaches out a hand and rests it on Hector's shoulder. It is light and skeletal and bears no warmth, but it goes with the intensity Withers suddenly has in his expression.

"In the Fugue Plane," he says, "her soul burns so bright, it pains the gods to look upon. Recall that in time, all changeth and all is rejoined. Thou shalt be with her again."

Hector feels something tight come loose in his chest, and he nods unsteadily. These are not empty words; this is Jergal speaking, not Withers. This is, perhaps, the only voice available to him that could tell him truly what he needs to know - that Karlach is not lost to him, nor beaten into dim submission by the wasteland of the Fugue.

She is still bright. And she is waiting for him. And one day, when he has brought her city back to life, he will go to find her.

[inonibird]

That time the druid bought presents for the rest of our party and decided to give my death cleric flowers.

[coleenvdraws]

you: recreating Dragon Age protags in BG3

me: recreating Fallout protags in BG3

[cursedhaglette]

has anyone dug into what Withers says in the post-credits scene? like why specifically does he call out the dead three/souls/mindflayer aspect of the absolutist plot? i'm not finding info on it being critical that the dead three consume souls specifically but is that an aspect of death that is critical in their godly domains? help pls

[necro-crab]

the secret of his success is simple (original audio by javadoodles from tik-tok)

[bardnuts]

OK here is the thing about Withers. (Spoilers ahead)

You know that random super-trapped tomb room in his temple, which is full of grease traps and sets itself on fire if you fail your disarm trap check?

Who the hell is buried there? The depiction on the sarcophagus appears to be female, but other than that we have no way of knowing, because nobody can read the epitaph.

However, elsewhere in the tomb there is a book describing a heretical denomination of the Church of Deneir pioneered by a woman named Iosefa Elgin.

I think it's one of the most interesting lore drops in the whole game.

[An excerpt from the ongoing Metatext: Rebound by Iosefa Elgin, a scholar excommunicated from the Church of Deneir for her heretical efforts to reconstruct the Metatext, her god's annal of lost and hidden knowledge.]

Of what value is a life? Far too esoteric a topic to warrant any serious critical consideration between these pages, surely - or so it would seem at first glance.

But once we push aside the mysterious and dewy-eyed sentiment so often clouding our assessment, it is clear that across all the spinning planes, each and every life does indeed have a quantifiable value. It is simply that not all are equally valuable.

Consider: We already know that the destruction of our material form is not the end. If anything, our souls are more free after death, transcending planar barriers in search of a resting place that best belies our deeds, beliefs, and station in life. But even this assessment is subject to market forces: Lord Kelemvor weighing our souls against how thoroughly we have given them over to other gods, empowering them in turn.

There is, of course, an alternate route: not the end of the path, but the chance to retread it. Clerics across the Realms wield the power to return life to any soul deemed worthy or willing enough. It is strange, then, that these so frequently intersect with those deemed wealthy enough, for the components of such a spell are beyond the means of most mortals.

I have interviewed those who have made such a return, and in truth have found them to be of the most dull and unimaginative sort that I cannot possibly imagine what it is they were so eager to return to.

If a true assessment of the journey is to be made, then there is simply no replacement for embarking upon it oneself. Perhaps, one day, this great volume of learning will make me worthy enough to walk that path - and wealthy enough to return.

-

What does this mean, and why is it here?

There is other evidence elsewhere in the dank crypt, such as the Book of Dead Gods, another book titled The Unclaimed (discussing a heretical view of Shar), and the armed scribes in Jergal's temple: one of your party members will comment something to the effect of "I wonder what was so subversive about their words that they commanded protection."

I believe the dank crypt/forgotten temple, with its unreadable plaques, was some kind of sanctuary and scriptorium for religious heretics (rather than the more common interpretation that it's merely a temple to Jergal). Or to put it another way, the dank crypt is a temple to forbidden knowledge. I'll go even further and say I believe the person in the trapped sarcophagus is Iosefa Elgin, but all I really have to back up that claim is the ostensibly female depiction on the sarcophagus and the proximity of her book to that room.

Speaking of Iosefa, let's go back to her writing.

In Dungeons & Dragons, the gods are capitalists.

Lampshading the D&D afterlife as being propelled by "market forces" is inspired, because it's true: spirituality in Faerun is transactional in nature. The main component for the Revivify spell is a diamond. Scrolls of Revivify are some of the most expensive consumables in the game.

Now, some people have suggested that Withers's price for reviving your dead party members is so he can cover the cost of those materials, but that's not right. First of all, no spells in BG3 use material components. Secondly, Withers doesn't even cast Revivify. He casts True Resurrection (which, for the uninformed, is a 9th-level Necromancy which requires an hour to cast, a sprinkle of holy water, and 25,000gp worth of diamonds, which is well above Withers's modest 200gp price tag).

Withers's true identity is strongly implied to be Jergal, Scribe of the Dead. Jergal is known for asking a single question to those who summon him: "What is the worth of a single mortal life?"

This is the same question Withers asks the player on his awakening. His attitude toward you doesn't change regardless of your reply. His own answer, as we all know, is "about 200 dollars."

When you fork over your resurrection fee, Withers says, "This is the price of balance." Leaving aside the obvious function of the transaction as a gameplay-balancing mechanic (which I think this line might also be alluding to as a subtle fourth-wall break), a lot of people interpret his price as a moral stance: he's making sure you don't kill your party members carelessly.

But it's pretty clear that Withers is a morally neutral character: he doesn't give a shit what you do or how many people you kill. He doesn't even care whether you stop the Absolute or not. He has no horse in this race. He doesn't even care about the money: you can pick his dusty pocket and take it back as soon as the service is rendered.

He doesn't care about how careful you are, he cares about how much you're willing to spend.

Another interesting thing to note: Withers may be the "hidden treasure" of the dank crypt (by your quest journal's own admission), but he's not the star of the show. You find him in a secret room, guarded by scribes and well out of the way.

But who gets the honor of being front and center? Whose tomb is in the middle of the crypt's first room past the main entrance (the locked doors in the cliffside at the beach)?

It's our girl, the Metatext heretic Iosefa Elgin.

This was her temple.

hey why does withers want your money. what is he spending it on

[slapthebass]

From @dylanclaymartin1photography / @dylanclaymartin1 on IG

[hiscursedness]

Love it when Withers shows up at your house and is all "lmao I'm a prophet I knew we would meet again" like my guy you came to my house.